Lovely Day for a Picnic
by Evil Riggs
Summary: On the rare perfect Saturday in Forks, Edward invites Bella on a picnic in the hills. Beneath the rays of a blameless sun, Edward has something startling to ask of his mortal girlfriend. This summary may be misleading. Stealth crossover. Previously posted; now with half the calories.


**LOVELY DAY FOR A PICNIC**

It was a perfect day for a picnic.

A long, dark, dull week had ended with a whimper of a Friday night. But Saturday dawned with a call from Edward, voice teasing over the telephone line.

"You looked outside yet?" he asked.

I was still in bed when I took the call, groggy and tugging absently at a night's worth of bed-head. "Mmmmno," I groaned. "S'too early. Can't you even _pretend _to keep a normal schedule?"

"C'mon, Bella. Give a look."

"It's Forks. Don't need to look," I yawned. Nonetheless, I rolled out of bed and lifted the edge of the curtains. I blinked, feeling the lingering, ugly buzz of sleep begin to fade.

It was beautiful out—a nearly perfect Saturday morning. All about Forks, Washington, the trees and grass shimmered diamond upon emerald with fading dew. The streets were nearly empty (it really was too early), and everything was so immaculate it was almost painful to look at.

The incessant fogs had lifted. Above the mountains, patches of blue like polished turquoise were opening through the thinning clouds. The sun shone invitingly in the east.

"Oh, wow," I breathed.

"I know, right?"

When I didn't say anything—just stood there, biting my lip and watching a lone jogger in a ratty shirt judder his way deeper into the neighborhood—Edward said, "Hey. You wanna have a picnic today?"

"Not to be a buzzkill, Edward," I giggled, "but this isn't exactly your kind of weather."

Edward sighed, "Up in the hills, I mean. I'll take care of everything. C'mon. Let's do it."

"Okay," I finally said. "Sure. Yes. Let's do it."

Edward picked me up an hour-and-a-half later, face half-hidden beneath a dark gray hoodie. Nonetheless, his pleased grin shone so white from within it was like a live thing itself. We made our way up a winding road into the mountains, disembarking shortly after the macadam turned to churned gravel. From the trunk of his Volvo, Edward produced an honest-to-God wicker picnic basket like something out of a Golden Book fable. Of course he would, I thought delightedly. Of course.

Grinning and exchanging few words, Edward and I tromped off the road and into the damp coolness of the woods. Patches of mist still slithered between the mossy trunks as if they were trying to escape the growing sunlight. Everything smelled wet and old and sharply fecund. Animals moved unseen among the leaves and fallen branches.

Edward led the way, obviously pacing himself so my frail human legs could keep up. He was so wonderful that way. So kind. Soon, he parted great ferns and led me into a wide and rolling mountain meadow, dotted with leaning boulders and kissed by the sun.

"It's beautiful!" I gasped.

"It sure is," Edward smiled. Without a further word, he pulled his sweatshirt off, exposing his face to the full glow of the sun. At once, his pale skin began to glimmer and spark like thousands of interconnected diamonds. "Feels good," he breathed. "Feels perfect."

He set to unrolling a blanket over the still-damp grass. Red checks on white, of course. As Edward carefully unpacked the picnic basket, I wandered the meadow listening to the sounds of the forest—all the strange groans and shufflings; all the whispery puffs of wind; every swish as I moved through the tall grass.

At last, I folded my legs beneath me on the blanket and accepted a chipped cup of coffee from Edward. It was still hot as I sipped at the bitter brew, watching him busy himself about the open basket. He set paper-wrapped packages on the blanket one at a time. For someone so strong, his touch was surprisingly delicate.

"Today's a red-letter day," Edward said cheerfully. "I kind of have something to ask you."

God, but that put the zap in my heart. Trying to ignore the sudden adrenaline shooting through me, I asked, "What's for brunch?"

"You'll see."

An annoying answer, but fair. It was enough for me to sit quietly, following his every movement. What a joy it was simply to exalt in the beauty of his vampiric skin, shining like gemstones beneath the sun. Face as chiseled and pale as statuary.

Everything about Edward was wonderful. He was perfect. So very perfect.

He rummaged about the picnic basket and produced a long, curved knife. Edward set it gingerly next to a cracked porcelain bowl I hadn't seen him pull out.

"Are we having cheese? I love cheese!" I blurted.

Giving me the side-eye, Edward chuffed, "You could say that."

I looked at the knife. The bowl. The packages. The red and white checkerboard of the blanket. I let my eyes roam out to the lonely edge of the forest, where shadows yet played. My eyes flitted back to the knife, the bowl, the packages wrapped in brown paper with hempen string.

I ventured, "Can you . . . can you even _have _cheese?"

Edward's mouth drew down into a neutral line. "I have no idea," he said. "It's never been a priority for me to try."

Something—a sensation, a memory, an unruly ghost of a thing—struck me then: the image of _another _knife. Smaller than this one. Inlaid with gold and red enameling in spiraling designs like a cephalopod's limbs. It flashed in twilight, and then—

I shuddered. It was gone. Some sudden and unbidden impression, lingering like an unpleasant aftertaste. I stared at the knife on the blanket and felt an oily nausea.

"Hey, Edward," I rasped. "I . . . um . . ."

"Hmmm?" Edward hummed absently. He was carefully undoing the wrapping on one of the packages, clearly in no hurry.

I started to stand. "Ed, I'm not feeling so hot. I . . . I want to leave. I'm sorry, but we have to go."

Edward was at my side so fast I barely had time to blink. He smiled sweetly and pressed fingers strong as stone into my shoulder. "Please, Bella. Please sit down." It was not unkind.

I shook my head and murmured, "Something's not right. I think I might be sick or something, and I just want to _go_—"

The fingers' weight grew so insistent that I had no choice but to fall back to the blanket, breath pummeled from my lungs. Edward's gentle smile turned down into a grimace.

"I said," he snarled, "_sit your ass down_."

I stared up at him, uncertain. He had been a bit rough before—it was part and parcel of dating a vampire, after all. Sometimes that gentleness slipped away and the astounding strength beneath shone through. But this . . .

"Edward, come on. Can we just leave? Please?"

"No," he said coldly. "No, I think not. I've waited too long for this."

"Please, Edward."

Edward Cullen sneered and turned his eyes to the sky, shading them with one perfectly shaped hand. He growled, "This is how it's going to be, huh? This is how it has to go down? Fine. Fine."

"Ed, you're scaring me," I whimpered.

He eyed me with such open, ragged contempt that it seemed as if my innards had turned to rock. About him the day was perfect, and his skin was perfect, and his eyes and skin and features were perfect. And yet within them now there was nothing but malevolence.

Edward laughed, "You goddamn maggot. You have no idea, do you? Where do you even think we _are_, sweetling?"

I found myself shaking uncontrollably. "What the heck are y-you talking about?"

"Oh, Bella. Bella Bella Bella. My silly little corpse bride." Edward began to pace the edge of the blanket, movements smooth and predatory. "You're so far-gone that you believe that all this is your home—your 'little town of Forks.' Pathetic. If anything, I'll be doing you a favor. Better to flare out now, serving a grander purpose, than to eventually end up some shambling wretch."

"W-what?"

"I've been grooming you, Bella. Seasoning you. Fattening you up, as it were. Do you have even the barest memory of what a grotesque wreck you were when I first found you? Can you remember beyond this wonderful little labyrinth of fantasy that we've created together?"

I said nothing. I just sat there in a heap, shivering uncontrollably despite the warmth and wonderful open sky above me. My head suddenly felt as if it were full of insects—scrabbling, scratching, chirruping, stretching their febrile wings. I stared at the man I thought I loved and saw only a glittering horror with a face like an animate mask.

Edward sighed, "It's been fun, I guess. But the jig is up and all forward progress is lost. Ah, well—better than nothing. Time for brunch."

The glimmering creature opened his jaws wide, wide, wider. There was a stony cracking noise as his lower jaw dislocated, opening a maw so wide it was like a jagged tunnel. Edward began to crouch, ready to pounce.

In my head, I saw the knife again—silver and gold and red beneath the torchlight. _It is an honor, m'lady. A true honor_. _Your passage is our salvation. So the world might be mended._

The sword pierced his chest just above the breastbone.

Edward twitched and shuddered, letting loose a mewling cry of fury and disbelief. The blade protruding from his torso wrenched upward, cleaving Edward's body as it went. He let loose one last gargling howl before the sword ripped his throat and face in half.

The monster I had loved pitched forward, features coming apart as he fell. His beautiful, perfect skin disintegrated, vaporized, sublimated into so much glittering dust. Within the span of seconds, the creature calling itself Edward Cullen was little more than a memory.

Behind the spot where Edward had been preparing his attack stood a tall figure, clad in silver and white. He wore honest-to-God _armor_—a flat-topped helm, ringmail, and steel plate. Over this he wore a green half-cloak and a white surcoat emblazoned with a placid-faced sigil of the sun. A single, bright red feather swayed from atop his helmet. In one gauntlet he held the sword that had killed my boyfriend.

The figure dipped his helm and said, "M'lady, are you injured? Do you need assistance?"

I said nothing. The world had gone mad.

Without losing a beat, the armored figure chuckled, "I have heard that demons of titanite roamed these lands—but never one of Twinkling Titanite. He must have been a rare and vile beast indeed!"

"What the _hell _is going on?!" I barked. That I managed so much was a wonder.

The man in white slid his sword into a scabbard at his side. With a sort of chivalric forbearance, he lowered himself to one knee. Though I couldn't see his face, his voice remained calm, even, and kindly.

"Fear not, fair lady! I am Solaire, Knight of Astora. Had I not intervened, that creature would have consumed your soul like so much gutter wine."

I shook my head and fought with all my strength not to pass out. I said, "This makes no sense. You're—I mean—a goddamn _sword_. What is—?" I stopped with a despairing sputter.

"Poor creature," Solaire breathed. "I will tell all, in time. Know now only that everything you believe to be true is a lie." He rose from to his feet with a jangle of mail and plate. The knight extended a hand, proffering it like a promise.

"Chosen Undead," he pronounced, "you have fallen far from your intended path. You have travelled much too long upon the road of the Hollow. Come with me if you wish to fulfill your true destiny."

Part of me was still screaming. Part of me wanted to curl into a ball on that tattered picnic blanket and never move from that spot again. And yet, I still reached out and allowed my palm to rest on Solaire's gauntlet. He pulled me up, chuckling lightly as I rose.

"There now. Rejoice, m'lady. Your rebirth begins now." He turned his unseen eyes upward and laughed quietly, contentedly. "By all the gods, it is a beautiful day! We see so few, now. Praise the sun!"

With that, Solaire of Astora began to tromp out into the meadow, leaving the picnic and the pulverized remains of Edward Cullen behind. I blinked, realized that he wanted me to follow, and began to jog after. "Hey, wait up!" I cried. "You owe me answers!"

"And have them you shall!" Solaire laughed. "But first, we must journey far today. Let us rejoice in the sun and the sky, and bind ourselves together in the spirit of jolly cooperation! Let us away to Lordran, and destiny! Praise the sun, lord—praise the sun!"

I stopped only to grab the long knife Edward had so delicately placed on the blanket, slipping it into one pants pocket. I felt suddenly like I would need it. Then I was dashing after Solaire, mind on fire with the possibilities.

Above us, only straggler clouds drifted across a joyous expanse of blue. The mountains smelled of rain and fresh moss. Somewhere, crows were playing raucously about the treetops. Something as titanic as it was unseen moved through the deep woods. Over the hills and beyond the forests, there rose opalescent spires so tall they seemed to rend the sky itself.

It was a perfect day to begin again.

Yes. Yes, indeed. _Praise the sun_.

_With apologies to Stephenie Meyer and From Software._


End file.
